


too hot.

by delusionalwithlove



Series: harmonic progression. [1]
Category: Electronic Dance Music RPF
Genre: Drabble Collection, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-07
Updated: 2015-04-07
Packaged: 2018-03-21 16:55:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3699956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delusionalwithlove/pseuds/delusionalwithlove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>subtitled: we better get receipts.</p><p>a teeny coachella drabble. hugo gets overheated, and porter finds an interesting solution.</p>
            </blockquote>





	too hot.

“It’s too hot,” Hugo groans, halfheartedly pawing at Porter’s wandering hands and the trails of heat left in their wake. The tents are supposed to shelter them from the blistering sun, but it’s somehow even worse inside without a breeze to unsettle some of the thick heat pooling inside the fabric walls. He probably shouldn’t complain; after all, they’re not even supposed to be in this tent. Their own is on the other side of the grounds, but it seemed so far away, and Sonny’s was closest- not to mention blessedly empty, his little gaggle of friends and assistants watching his set instead of guarding their rest space.

Porter’s touch disappears, and Hugo instantly regrets making it go away, even if he is miserably overheated as it is. He’ll take heat stroke if it means another lazy hour spent making out with his admittedly handsy boyfriend, even if Anton will probably burst in on them again and bitch about the relative privacy of hotel rooms to tents. He’s in the middle of twisting around on their makeshift pallet on the ground to press an apology to Porter’s lips when the first shock hits him.

It takes another wave of biting cold cascading down his spine and spilling over his scalp to realize that Porter is tipping a water bottle over his head, and he’s half a second from spluttering out a protest when he realizes that it feels _fucking amazing_. A grateful moan takes the place of words, and Hugo tips his head back to savor the feeling, his overheated skin singing with every drop.

Then Porter is crowding into his space again, one hand tangling in the wet mess of Hugo’s hair to keep his head tipped back, and another moan spills from his mouth as Porter chases each rivulet with his tongue, sucking a hot swath of bruises down the slope of his throat.

“Better? Porter murmurs, blowing a gentle stream of cool air on the marks he’s just made, and Hugo can only manage a nod, all thought of sweltering California sun forgotten as he starts to shiver.


End file.
